


Davekat Demonstuck Extravaganza

by GreyscaleCourtier



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bookstore, Alternate Universe - Demons, Demonstuck, Grimdark Special Effects, Karkat is just here to stock books and didn't sign up for any of this, M/M, kanaya named the store Maryam & Sons just to be annoying, with a side of Rosemary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-11 13:45:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8982322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreyscaleCourtier/pseuds/GreyscaleCourtier
Summary: Ever since Kanaya contracted with the thing calling itself Rose, this shithead has been coming by the bookstore every single day to hassle you with ever-stranger book requests.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theloveliestkindoftrash](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=theloveliestkindoftrash).



> For Homestuck Secret Santa 2016, a gift for theloveliestkindoftrash! Demonstuck Davekat with a side of Demonstuck Rosemary, featuring Bec Noir and a light dusting of a Bookstore AU. Hope you like it!

“Okay.” The asshole in red leans at you across your carefully-designed table display. “How’s this. Dragons _plus_ aliens, and some shameless porn thrown in just because.”

“The Hidden Gates series, D.T. Dylan.” you grit between your teeth without looking at him. Ever since Kanaya started dating the thing calling itself “Rose,” this shithead has been coming by the bookstore every single day to hassle you with ever-stranger book requests. You’re running out of ideas; it’s not like the passive-aggressively named Maryam & Son Books has a lot of stock.

“Hmmm.” He drums pale fingers on the lame poetry collections on the table. “Telepathy, sibling rivalry, and a robot who just wants to be _loved.”_

“Speaker for the Dead, Orson Scott Card. Can you let me stock the shelves in relative, fleeting peace?”

“Nah. Okay, how about this: debauchery, teen pregnancy, superheroes, and wanton drug use.”

That gives you pause, but you dredge the back of your memory. “Uhh… fuck, what was it called. The Protect… shit. The Safe Lands? By something Williamson. _Jill._ Jill Williamson.”

“You are a diamond in the rough. What you’re doing out here in the middle of nowhere, I have no idea.” The guy grins with far-too-sharp teeth.

Kanaya appears at the end of the aisle. “Closing in twenty minutes, Karkat. Dave, Rose is waiting for you outside.”

“Cool.”

By the time you look back at the table display, he’s gone.

“That’s downright fucking unsettling,” you tell Kanaya.

She shrugs. “They’re not actually evil, you know.”

“You’ve been brainwashed by crazy demon witch boobs.”

“That’s fair, but my point still stands. Perhaps you should use your employee discount to do some research.”

“I’ll pass.” You cram a few more copies of _War and Peace_ onto the shelf and privately hope the demon in red comes back tomorrow.

~

“Okay, how’s this.” He lounges in one of the garage-sale couches Kanaya picked up years ago to make the shop look more “reader-friendly.” You’ve never actually seen anyone lounge, but somehow he’s doing it. “A rebellion, at least two hangovers, a charming rogue with hidden guilt, and an animal companion that never talks but is still somehow the comic relief.”

You sigh and pause in the middle of reorganizing the Jane Austen shelf. (It never needs reorganizing. You just like the covers. What can you say. You’re a fan of historical romances.) “My autobiography,” you finally say.

He barks a surprised laugh at that. It makes your chest feel weird and tight. “All right, smartass,” he says, leaning over the arm of the couch. “What was the animal companion, then?”

“Oh fuck no, I’m not telling you anything about me.”

“How else are we supposed to bond?” He fake-pouts at you from the couch. He’s still lounging.

“We’re not going to fucking bond!”

_“I’m_ stuck here because my partner contracted with your boss. _You’re_ stuck here because the looming spectre of death scared you into the clutches of capitalism. Neither of us are having fun here, but since we’re motherfucking entrenched in this bitch anyway, might as well chat.”

You jam a Sense and Sensibility back in place and remind yourself not to let your guard down just because he’s attractive and pretending to be friendly.

“Fine, I’ll tell you about _me._ That’s totally still bonding. It all started when some shithead with an apple got this other shithead to eat the apple–”

“Can you shut the fuck up for five seconds?”

“Nah. Cursed.”

“Really.” He doesn’t answer and you look back at him uncertainly. “Wait, really?”

“No, not fucking really. You almost bought it, though.”

You snatch your footstool and head for the next aisle.

He follows you, of course, appearing behind you with a soft hiss like smoke through a keyhole. “Ooh, historical fiction. My favorite.” He bends down and pretends to read the spines from behind the dark shades he never fucking takes off. “It’s all bullshit. The stuff that really happened? Now _that_ makes for good stories. I might write one myself someday.”

Smoke-through-a-keyhole hissing startles you into turning around again, and the one named Rose with the purple eyes is standing beside him. “It’s time we were off,” she tells him. She never acknowledges you. You’re grateful for that.

“Cool.” He goes on inspecting the books.

“Dave. It’s rather urgent that we leave as soon as possible.”

“Huh.”

“Noir is in the neighborhood.”

Dave goes very still. Rose nods at him even though he’s not looking her way. “Yes. We should go. Quickly.”

“Who in the ever-loving shit is Noir?” you gripe at no one in particular.

“No one you want to meet.” Rose doesn’t even look at you as she says it. “And unless we want to draw him here, which would be a very inconvenient day for everyone involved, we should be very far away.”

“So soon?” Kanaya appears at the end of the aisle.

“Afraid so.” Rose grips Dave’s arm and gives Kanaya an apologetic shrug. “We’ll pick up our… conversation later.”

Like smoke through a keyhole, they vanish.

Kanaya rubs her eyes. “Let’s close early tonight, Karkat.”

“Okay. As long as I still get paid.”

_The looming spectre of death scared you into the clutches of capitalism,_ you can hear Dave say.

You ignore the flutter it sets off in your brain and grab a broom.

~

Kanaya flicks off the lights as she leaves. “Remember to check both doors before you go,” she calls over her shoulder.

“Yeah, yeah,” you say at the doorway, counting the day’s earnings in the tiny office by lamplight. It’s hard to concentrate when you keep catching yourself listening for smoke through a keyhole. It’s too quiet here without him constantly bothering you, and with Kanaya gone and the main lights out, the shop seems much darker than it should be.

You lose your count and swear under your breath, collecting the bills back to start over. As soon as you start, something _thumps._

You jerk upright, knocking the chair back, cash ignored on the desk. The lamp flickers, setting the hair on the back of your neck prickling.

Freaky demon juju, probably, you think. Or a raccoon chewing on some power lines outside. It’s fifty-fifty.

You snag the emergency flashlight from under the desk and, with a moment of hesitation, the iron knife Kanaya had entrusted you with at the start of her dalliance with demons. The Something thumps again. It’s definitely in the alley next door, banging heavy against the outside wall. It sounds big.

The odds of it being a raccoon are thinning.

You pause, knife in one hand, unlit flashlight in the other. Maybe you should just call Kanaya back here to help check things out. Investigating alone is what gets perky stock-girls killed in the first ten minutes of a horror movie.

You move back into the office and after a moment of debate, switch off the flickering desk lamp. You set the knife down and paw at your pocket blindly for your cell.

**_THUD_ **

You jump half out of your skin as the sound booms right by your head, just on the other side of the wall. The force of it shakes dust down from the ceiling. That’s not a raccoon. You’re fucked.

You bolt out of the tiny office and duck down the children’s aisle. If whatever it is gets in, you want some distance between you. You hiss expletives under your breath as you realize you’ve left the knife behind on the desk, and you dig your phone out of your pocket.

The screen feels blinding as you try to find Kanaya’s number, but at least things haven’t been thumping anymore. You squint against the glare and finally, finally press Dial.

It rings twice, then: “Karkat?”

Your knees almost buckle with the relief. “Kanaya, fuck, there’s something outside the shop, it’s trying to get in and it is not fucking normal, oh my god please get back here–”

“Hello?”

Your chest goes cold. “Kanaya, can you hear me?”

“Is anyone there?”

Oh god. She can’t hear you. Maybe the Thing, whatever the hell it is, is screwing with the transmission. She hangs up and you’re left staring at the screen in slowly dawning horror. There is a very real possibility you’re about to die.

The ceiling creaks and a light fixture swings a little, and your heart skips a beat. Whatever it is, it must have smelled – sensed? – Dave and Rose’s presence and come looking.

Something comes down on the roof with a _bang_ and a _roar_ and you take off again, dropping your useless phone as you run for the back door. Maybe you’ll be safe if you can get out. Maybe it won’t come after you. Maybe you can still get out of this alive.

Something grabs your wrist and drags you down the Self-Help aisle. You shriek like a child and flail wildly until a voice says “Oh my god shut the fuck up or he’ll hear you.”

You freeze, blinking in the shadows at some very familiar shades glinting in the dark. Dave lets go of your wrist and ducks down the aisle. “He’s not here for you,” he stage-whispers over his shoulder. “In case you were wondering.”

“Well, color me fucking comforted.” But you’re still terrified and phoneless and unable to think of a better alternative, so you follow. “So he’s after you? And who the hell is ‘he,’ anyway?”

“Noir,” Dave says simply. “And no, he’s technically after your boss. Long story. Don’t ask. There was a chainsaw and some ancestral cursing. It’s why Rose and I got involved.”

“Kanaya?”

“Can you keep up? I don’t have time to give my kickass Demonology 101 lecture right now when I’m trying to get you out of here. SparkNotes: some Maryam down the bloodline pissed Noir off and he wants even.”

“You’re not–” The roof by the children’s section groans and cracks, bits of plaster and ceiling insulation drifting down, and you clutch at Dave’s shoulder until the noise settles. In a much shakier voice, you go on. “You’re not here to fight him?”

“Oh _fuck_ no. Why the hell would you think that? Noir’s out of our league. Way out. Technically we’re not even allowed to attack him unless he’s interfering with a contract.” Dave whips around the corner faster than you were expecting, and you have to scramble to keep up. “Holy shit, you have an anime section? How did I miss this?”

“It’s _manga,”_ you hiss, and then the roof in the children’s section gives way completely with a sound like thunder and you bolt down the aisle after him. “Oh god oh god oh god oh fuck oh god–”

Dave reappears behind you and pushes you down the aisle. “Shut the fuck up and go, _go go go._ Head for the register. We can’t get out the back, gotta go for the front.”

You’re hit with a wave of some reeking smell that makes your eyes water and your lungs burn. You clamp a hand over your nose and mouth, knowing that if you cough it’ll be the last thing you do.

Dave grabs the back of your shirt, jerking you to a stop at the end of the aisle, and sidles up to peer around the corner. You follow his gaze to see the silhouette of something enormous with hulking black wings in the dust from the collapsed ceiling _. Oh god oh god oh god oh god._

“Don’t move until I draw him off,” Dave whispers, then vanishes. The smell of sulphur lessens as he goes.

You’re frozen with terror, suddenly alone as the shadow of the hulking thing with wings lifts a head the size of a refrigerator and sniffs, scenting the air like some giant hellhound.

“Hey, Big Bad Wolf. Didn’t think you liked Percy Jackson. This is some good blackmail material.” Dave’s voice carries through the dust, and he appears on one of the couches, fucking _lounging._

Noir’s enormous head swings around, and you crouch (like it’ll make a modicum of difference) and run for the register. As long as you can get behind the counter, you figure it should be a straight shot to the front door; but the instant you look up to see if Noir is still distracted, your shoe catches on a stray footstool and you have to grab the nearest table display to keep from falling. A paperback slides to the ground with a soft _thump._

Dave flashes to his feet the same instant and tips over a shelf with a crash that disguises the sound. “Wait until this shit gets downstairs!” he goes on, voice raised. “I’m gonna tell Fieri you like Harry Potter. He’s gonna flip his greasy fucking tits. Make you watch every goddamn movie over and over until you piss blood. It’s a nightmare.” Dave grins and flickers away just as a gleaming blade slashes through the air and cleanly slices the toppled shelf in half.

You dive for the counter just as Noir lets loose a roar that makes your teeth shake. You clamp your hands over your ears and hold your breath. You’re going to need so much fucking therapy. The roar intensifies and you think you hear something shatter.

Dave materializes and shoves your head down, blocking a shower of broken glass raining down as the light bulb overhead bursts. The roar reaches a crescendo so loud your vision whites out. You clutch your head as your skull threatens to crack and pray it ends.

When it finally dies away, you’re left with a fierce ringing and blood on your hands when you manage to pry them away from your aching ears. Dave is staring down at you, blonde eyebrows pulled tight together in what could pass for concern.

He says something, quiet and fast and in a rush of breath too quick for you to follow.

You blink fuzzily at him. _What?_ you mouth.

He takes you by the face, his hands firm but careful on your cheeks. His hands are warmer than you’d expected. “I said, contract with me.”

“With… Are you fucking insane?”

“He has more demons outside. I can’t get you out, and I can’t kill him unless he’s interfering with my contract.” His hands tighten on your face. “So contract with me.”

His nails dig into your skin and you think you would gladly follow him to Hell and back if he asked you to.

“Okay,” you say.

He kisses you, once, fiercely, on the mouth. He tastes like fire and sin and the dust from the ceiling. Then he vanishes like smoke through a keyhole.

When he reappears, standing much taller than you remember, red suit traded for one black as ink and shades gone, you think you’d be happy to give him your soul. You’d give him anything he asked for.

“You,” says Dave, no hint of snark or smugness. You crawl to the corner of the counter to watch as Noir takes one heavy footstep closer. “You, Noir, are violating a contract.”

Noir takes another step. The floor groans under the weight.

“Seriously. I just contracted the incredibly hot book stocker over there, you do _not_ want to piss me off.”

Noir snarls with centuries of weight and anger behind it.

“No, forget about Maryam, she’s contracted too. Turns out she really digs weird blonde demon girls. It’s gross, I know. But honestly. Fuck off.”

Noir bellows and the reek of sulphur returns, gagging you. You cough and retch, and at the edge of your watering vision you see Dave glance anxiously in your direction. He looks oddly human with the omnipresent sunglasses gone.

In the split second Dave looks your way, Noir charges.  
_Wings spread._  
_Maw gaping._  
 _Blade raised high._

Dave whips a sword of his own out of thin air and bats away Noir’s with a flick. They dissolve into flashing black and silver, back and forth too fast for you to watch. The sound is like a fork in a garbage disposal and it’s all you can do to grit your teeth against the clanging and hope Dave doesn’t lose.

The front door crashes open amid smoke that flows like water, like tentacles. Rose follows them inside, eyes stark white in grayed skin. She spares a quick glance for you, then turns her attention to the fight. “It seems they’re making a mess,” she remarks to you over the din.

“No shit.” You roll the words around in your mouth, tasting blood somewhere.

“I suppose Kanaya wouldn’t be happy with it. I’ll have to intervene.” Rose heaves a sigh, draws a perfectly white sphere from nowhere, and lifts it high.

You duck back behind the counter as a blast of searing white light explodes from Rose’s orb, stinging your eyes before you clamp them shut. The ringing in your ears overwhelms the clash of the fight. You think you black out for a second.

The light fades out and you slowly manage to piece your brain back together. You blink at the carpet as the ringing in your ears finally, finally dies away.

“–look at me? Karkat, up here.” Kanaya’s long fingers run soothingly through your hair, and you grudgingly follow her voice until you see her looking down at you.

“I want a raise,” you manage.

“I think that’s fair. We’ll discuss it when I’m sure you don’t have a concussion.” She offers you a hand up. “Your phone call worried me, so I called Rose to help investigate.”

“Fortunately,” says Rose from somewhere you can’t see, “it seems my partner was here first. How _lucky.”_

“Shut the fuck up,” Dave says, and your chest goes weird and tight again. “Shut it all the way the fuck up. I, I had a hunch.”

“You had a _crush,”_ Rose says smugly.

“I’m going to punch you in the face with fire.”

“Oh, that’ll go very well. What could possibly go wrong.”

Dave leans into your field of view, bright maroon eyes alight with worry. “Are you okay?”

“Nnnnnnsure.” You sit up with some help from Kanaya. “Is he gone?”

“Noir’s headed back downstairs,” Rose says as Dave sits next to you. ( _Lounging._ Again with the goddamn lounging.) “Apparently he has some issues with following orders, so he’s getting reassigned to somewhere in Russia until he works them out. We won’t be seeing him for a few decades. And I’ll have some of our minions clean up the mess in here. You should be ready for business in a day or two.” Rose glances at the gaping hole in the roof and relents. “Maybe three.”

“Let’s shoot for three,” you mumble. “Can it be three?”

“We can arrange that.” Rose slips a hand around Kanaya’s waist. “Dave, you’re in charge of escorting him home. Kanaya, our _conversation_ is waiting.”

“Of course.” Kanaya ruffles your hair as she stands up, and you’re too tired to flip her off for it. “Call me if you need anything, Karkat.”

They disappear into the dark.

“Is 'conversation’ a euphemism for–” you start.

“Yeah,” Dave says.

“Gross.”

“Yeah.”

You sit in silence for a moment.

“Where the fuck did my shades go?”

“Don’t ask me.”

“Shit. My best bro gave me those.” Dave runs a pale hand over his face. “It feels weird.”

“They’re around here somewhere.” You’re too tired to stay upright, so you drop your forehead to rest on his shoulder. He smells like fire and metal.

He hums in agreement and runs fingers through your hair. “You should go home.”

“Yeah,” you mumble into his clothes.

You sit in silence for a few more moments.

“Oh shit, almost forgot. Hold still.” Dave’s hand slips down to your hip. There’s a second of intense heat, then it goes back to normal. “Boom. You’re mine now.”

“What?” You don’t even move from his shoulder.

“My mark. It’s official, you’re mine.”

“Too tired to be your human pet.”

“Wh– _no,_ no no no. The contract clearly states no takesy-backsies.”

You huff into his neck. “Home,” you suggest.

“You’re going to be an enormous pain. I regret this already.” But he slides an arm around your shoulders and the other under your knees and picks you up with no visible effort.

“That’s kind of hot,” you tell him.

“Oh, I see, so all the awesome supernatural battling earlier was just okay, but carrying you like a sack of flour is _apparently_ your biggest kink.”

“I didn’t see most of the fighting, actually.”

“Fuck, really? I wasted all that time showing off and you didn’t even see the cool shit?”

“I saw Rose’s cool shit.”

“Fine, I’ll call _her_ to come carry you home instead, if that’s how you really feel.”

Cool night air washes over you as Dave steps outside.

“You know, I _did_ actually read all the books you suggested,” he says.

“Really.”

“Yeah. I have a lot of free time. Speaker for the Dead wasn’t really my style.”

“Card isn’t for everyone,” you agree into his skin.

“Kinda pretentious.”

“Mm-hmm.” You close your eyes.

“What, hey, no, no going to sleep, I want to complain about your taste in books.”

“Take it up with the fucking complaint department.” You nuzzle deeper into his shoulder.

“Oh finally. He said his first 'fucking’ in fifteen minutes. I was worried.”

“Fuck you,” you slur into his jacket, and fall asleep in his arms to the sound of smoke through a keyhole.

**Author's Note:**

> bonus text at "some Maryam down the bloodline" bc i learned how to use hover text


End file.
